


Salt

by neednot



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, The End, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 12:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11357565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neednot/pseuds/neednot
Summary: Like Lot’s wife, she looks back. Like Lot’s wife, she crumbles into nothing more substantial than salt. Salt tears, salty iron taste on her tongue from biting her words back too hard.





	Salt

The first thing that comes to her mind isn’t the acrid smell of smoke, the memory of Bill setting Melissa’s hair on fire. It’s the dull, droning voice of a preacher at her father’s funeral. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

He smells like smoke when she wraps her arms around him. And she knows she’s still angry with him, and she knows she’s still jealous, and she knows her heart hurts. 

But he smells like smoke and it’s not the acrid smoke of cigarettes, but the smoke of a fire, of all his work going up in flames, and so she holds him like her life depends on it. 

She does not think of Diana. Of Mulder in her arms. Not then. He is too vulnerable and she is too angry and it isn’t the right time. 

His office is in ashes, the burning of Sodom and Gomorrah. The burning of all their work, all their sins, penance for not playing the game they want them to play.

He clings to her as they walk away from it.

Like Lot’s wife, she looks back. Like Lot’s wife, she crumbles into nothing more substantial than salt. Salt tears, salty iron taste on her tongue from biting her words back too hard.

She wonders, fleetingly, if she caused this. Punishment for her sins of jealousy, pride. 

Lust.

But later. Later she takes him home and he showers off the smell and she heads down the hall of his apartment complex to the laundry, leaning her body against the shaking machine as she washes the smoke off both their clothes. 

He finds her there, dressed in flannels and a t shirt, hugging her knees. 

“Hey,” he says, but she won’t meet his gaze. The dryer whirs and spins behind them, too loud. 

“You okay?” he asks, and she curses herself for letting him see this moment of weakness. 

“Fine.”

Her voice is hoarse and her emotions are raw, and she is surprised when he sinks down next to her. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “About your work.”

“It’s just work,” he says, but the words are hollow. 

“It’s not just work,” she says, and reaches for his hand. He looks down at her fingers in his. 

“You slept with her,” she says, and it’s not a question. 

“Yes,” he says.

“When?” 

“A few nights ago.”   
She doesn’t know why they are having this conversation now. It is rubbing salt into wounds, scars that haven’t had time to heal. 

She bites back her words.

Salt on her tongue. Pride. Envy. Lust.

“I kept thinking of you.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” 

She pulls her fingers away. Behind her, the dryer stops, and she pushes herself off the floor to check the clothes. 

She hears him get up. When she bends down to open the dryer door she feels him behind her, his hands on her waist. 

“Mulder…” 

Her tone is a warning. 

But it is a weak one, and they both know it. 

She turns around to face him and he presses her back against the dryer, and his mouth on hers is hot and insistent. The sex is quick and rough and angry and she wraps her legs around his waist and cries when she comes, and when she kisses him after all she tastes is

salt.


End file.
